Unspecified
by TheOwlAndThePlatypus
Summary: Divergent is about a girl who has multiple good qualities. Unspecified is about a girl who has none. Will she discover her talents? Does she actually have any talents? To be honest she's not all that bothered, as long as she can survive initiation...
1. Chapter 1

My name is called and I enter a small room. The lady inside is from Candor. I raise my eyebrows and giggle. She looks confused.

"What?" she says.

"You're from Candor." I say. "So you have to tell me the truth."

She doesn't seem to see the joke, and gestures that I should sit down in the strange, mechanical looking chair. I squint at it, tilting my head this way and that.

"What the –

"Please, just sit down," she interrupts.

Huffily, I sit, and she starts applying thingys to my head.

"What are they?" I ask.

"Electrodes," she said.

"What for?"

"You'll see."

She gives me a vial of clear liquid.

"Drink this," she says.

"What is it?"

"Just drink it," she says.

"Fine." I tip it into my mouth from as high up as my arm can reach, just to show off. She rolls her eyes, just as mine close.

I open them to find myself in the empty school cafeteria, and wonder idly if it's lunchtime yet. Or dinnertime...might have already had lunch.

"Choose," a woman's voice says.

"Huh?" I look round trying to locate the voice, but see no one.

"Choose," it says again. Choose what?

"Oh, for goodness sake, right in front of you. Baskets. On table. Choose one."

I look down to find that the table in front of me does, indeed, bear two baskets, one with a knife and one with a hunk of cheese. I think about it, the reach out fast with both hands and grab both, taking a big bite out of the cheese. I spit the cheese out immediately, and toss it back into the basket.

"Eww!" I complain. The baskets disappear. Good riddance, that was some NASTY cheese. I hear a growl from behind me and spin round, brandishing the knife. A huge dog with black eyes glares at me from across the room, and I glare back and snarl at it. Then it pounces, and I scream and run, tossing the knife behind me as I go. To my surprise, when I turn round the dog is sat at my feet, the knife between its teeth, panting happily. I think he wants me to throw it again.

"Good dog," I say, petting it, "Good boy, who's a cutie then?" I take the knife from its jaws, and am about to throw it when a little girl appears at the other side of the room.

"Puppy!" she squeals, jumping up and down excitedly. The dogs head turns, and it starts barking and snarling, then stalks towards her, pauses, and prepares itself to pounce. The little girl does not appear to be aware that the dog is threatening her.

"I'd advise you to run," I say, "Unless you have something to throw, he likes playing fetch." She completely ignores my advice and rushes towards the dog, arms out wide. More fool her. I slip out whilst the dog is distracted, and find myself alone in the testing room. I look around, noticing for the first time that the walls are made of mirrors, and do a double take when I realise that my reflection does not show in any of them. _Meh,_ I think, and wander out through the door. I find myself on a bus, and look around, confused.

"Hey!" a man with a newspaper grabs my arm and I spin round, "Do you know this guy?" he asks, pointing to a picture in his newspaper. The picture seems familiar, but I can't place it. My brow furrows as I think, then I conclude that since I can't place him, I might as well claim not to know him. Besides, the headline above says he's a brutal murderer, definitely best not to associate.

"Nope," I lie, casually, "Never seen the guy in my life,"

"You're lying," he says.

"Who d'you think you're calling a liar, fool?" I reply, indignantly.

"I can see it in your eyes, you're lying."

"Am not," I say, flippant now.

"If you know him, you could save me," he says, "You could _save_ me!"

"Naff off," I say, "I told you, I don't know the weird dude in your newspaper."

I wake up, and smile sunnily at Candor-lady.

"Well?" I say.

"Umm..." she says, "I just need to check something, I'll be right back."

Check something? Jeez, clearly they don't even train them properly. I sulk.

When she returns, she seems more confused than when she left.

"Right," she says, "Well, your results are somewhat inconclusive. Typically, each stage of the simulation eliminates one or more of the factions, but in your case, all of them have been ruled out."

I narrow my eyes and stare at her.

"So what you're trying to say," I say, slowly, "Is that I have no good qualities?"

"Well..." she says awkwardly, "I'm sure you do have good qualities, it's just that they do not include honesty, selflessness, kindness, intelligence or courage,"

Typical Candor. Only they would be that blunt about it.

"So what am I supposed to do about it?" I ask, "What faction do I choose?"

"Well," she says, "Not Dauntless, Erudite or Candor, definitely, you wouldn't have a chance of passing their initiation. Amity or Abnegation would probably be your best bet. Since you're already in Amity, I would advise you to attempt initiation there. Your inside knowledge and upbringing should give you an advantage,"

I walk out in a huff. No good qualities indeed, of course I have good qualities. Well, I'm pretty, anyway. That's a good quality, right?


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. I want to ask what results other people got, but am pretty sure that I would get in more trouble than is a good idea. Most of them will have their own factions. A few will have others. I wonder how many will be like me. Unspecified. I brush away that thought, refusing to dwell on it.

On the way home, I chatter excitedly with my friends about the ceremony tomorrow. We all have new dresses, which we went shopping for together at the weekend, and I try to initiate a discussion about how best to accessorize.

"The trouble with red and yellow," I say, "Is that they do not go together very well... I mean, I suppose I could get away with a yellow scarf or necklace... what do you think?"

"You are vain, Anna," Lucy laughs, playfully, "There isn't a faction for dress sense, remember?"

I laugh.

"That," I say, "Would be an excellent faction. Invented by people who blame all the trouble in the world on bad dress sense... If you think about it, how many evil people have you heard of who knew how to dress well?"

"Most of them," Kia says, rolling her eyes, "Many of the worst people were dictators – they had to know how to dress to become popular!"

"I'm joking, Kia," I said, "Theoretical factions and everything – you don't have to be so serious! What faction would you invent if you could?"

A look of irritation crossed Kia's face before she quickly resolved it into a smile. Joking wasn't really her thing. She thought for a moment.

"Maybe a faction for loyalty," she said, thoughtfully, "If people weren't disloyal, it might just help the world..." she trailed off, sadness registering briefly in her eyes.

"I'd create a faction for creativity," Lucy said, quickly moving on, "That would be excellent fun!"

"That would be perfect for you!" I say. Lucy's bedroom walls are covered with beautiful paintings of scenes from mythical worlds; forests with centaurs and unicorns and that kind of thing. I'm always trying to persuade her to paint my room, but don't know what I'd want on my walls and she always refuses to come up with ideas for me. Apparently it's a _personal_ thing.

"How about you, Hayley?" I ask. Hayley doesn't respond.

"Are you okay, Hayley?" Lucy asks, "You've been really quiet today, is something wrong?"

Hayley looks as though she might cry, but shakes her head.

"Why don't you all come round mine to sort out outfits for tomorrow?" I say, more to break the silence than anything else.

"I can't," Hayley says, "I... I have a lot to think about... I'm sorry,"

I almost respond sulkily, but something in her voice prevents me.

"Okay," I say, brightly, "Kia, Lucy?"

"I can come round for a bit," says Kia, "I want to spend most of this evening with my family though,"

"Same here," says Lucy.

Back at home, I show them my planned outfit. They've already seen the dress – a gorgeous red long silky one which is flattering even on me. I plan to add a yellow scarf and bracelet, and a beaded necklace. And high heels. I like to feel tall, preferably taller than everyone else. They agree that it looks great.

I've already seen their dresses too, so we start planning their accessories. They haven't given much thought to it yet, so I have great fun planning theirs for them. I'm not convinced that they appreciate my art, but oh well. Such is life.

Then our discussion turns to earlier.

"What was up with Hayley?" I ask. Kia looks serious.

"I think... I get the feeling she might not be staying here," she says. We are all silent for a moment.

"But you two are staying, right?" I ask, "I don't want us all to split up..."

"You know we're not meant to discuss that, Anna, don't be daft," Lucy says, nudging me and smiling, "I thought you were the last person who'd get worried over this – this is your chance to dress up and parade around in front of people on a stage!" Kia laughs. I laugh too, but a little uneasily. What if this ceremony thing is more important than I had realised?


	3. Chapter 3

Our discussion is over too soon – Kia and Lucy go home to be with their families, and I stay in my room. My outfit is hung up on the wardrobe door now, all ready for tomorrow. For the first time, I am nervous now. I bite my lip and push away the 'what-ifs' which run through my head. I paint my nails to distract myself. It must be normal to feel like this. I bet everyone else is feeling the same way. That must be why the others wanted to be with their family. It's a perfectly rational explanation. Yes. I nod my head, less nervous now.

I'm quieter than usual at dinner, afraid that if I open my mouth I'll tell them the truth. Maisie, my little sister, is asking question after question about tomorrow, and Mum and Dad answer each one patiently. I'm don't really listen – there's too much else on my mind. After dinner, I hide in my room again, not wanting to talk to anyone. There's a tentative knock on my door, and Mum comes in.

"Are you ok?" she asks. I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant but not succeeding. Mum isn't fooled.

"What's wrong?" she asks, sitting down beside me on the bed. I shrug again, biting my lip.

"Come on, you can tell me," she says, gently, "It's ok,"

"What if... what if I don't really belong here?" I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice, "What if I don't belong anywhere, and I end up out on the streets..." I start to cry.

Mum puts her arms round me, and draws me into a tight hug.

"You'll be fine," she says, "You belong here, no matter what any test tells you."

"They said I don't have any good qualities," I whisper, sadly.

"Of course you have good qualities. You'll realise that, in good time."

I bite my lip. "But what if I really don't belong... what if I'm not good enough?" I start crying again.

She takes my shoulders and holds me away from her. "Look at me," she says. I look at her. "Don't you ever think you aren't good enough. Ever. Understand?" I nod. "Good," she says, "Now, go to sleep, you have a big day tomorrow. I'll walk with you to the bus stop if you want."

"Ok," I say in a small voice. She strokes my hair.

"My big girl," she says, softly, "Sixteen already... I can hardly believe it! You're so grown up!" She kisses me on the forehead. "Sleep well. Everything's going to be fine."

It's going to be fine. I take a deep breath and walk out the door. I can do this. Mum and I walk in silence, neither of us knowing what to say. As we round the last corner, Mum slows down and I could almost swear I hear her gasp.

An old Abnegation man is standing at the bus stop, waiting. As we approach, his eyes lock onto us, and I move closer to Mum. When we reach him, the man smiles.

"Emily," he greets her, "it's been a while,"

"It has," Mum says, coldly, "What are you doing here?" I see that she is tense.

"And this must be your daughter," he says, ignoring her question, "I'd heard tell she looks like you – it's true. What's her name?"

Mum bites her lip and looks down. There are a few moments of silence. The man raises an eyebrow.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" he says, softly. Almost threateningly.

"Anna," she says, quietly, "She's called Anna,"

"Named after her grandmother, eh?" the man says. Mum nods, looking upset. Suddenly, I am angry. Very angry. Nobody upsets my mum like that, nobody.

"And why is it any of your business?" I snap, "Who are you, anyway?"

He chuckles, "You're just like her as well. That temper..."

I glare at him.

"Who are you?"

"Do you want to tell her, Lisa?" he says to Mum, "Or shall I?" Mum remains silent.

"Very well then," he says, "I'm your grandfather, Anna. Your mother broke my heart when she left me all alone."

"No way," I say, "No way are you my grandfather. If you are, how come I never saw you until now?"

"It was your mother's wishes," he said, "But now that you're sixteen... I couldn't help myself... I had to know..."

"What?"

"I had to know your choice," he finished, his eyes meeting mine, "I was hoping, perhaps foolishly, that you would come back to me, set right your mother's... _mistake,_"

"It wasn't a mistake," Mum says, softly.

"Would you prefer 'wrongdoing'?" he asked, "I thought I had brought you up to be selfless – you turned out quite the opposite. I don't know where I went wrong."

Mum's face reddens and she blinks a few times. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. She looks away.

"Leave her alone," I say.

"She's my daughter," he retorts.

"I don't care, leave her alone,"

"So protective," he said, "Abnegation quality, you know." That's it. I hook him one, right in the face. He steps back, stunned and clutching his nose.

"Maybe I was wrong," he says, coldly, "Clearly you've inherited my wife's side of the family, just like your mother." He means it as an insult. "The ones who _can_ fit into a faction," he continues, "but only just." He smiles, cruelly, and walks away. I'm still angry, and I can see that Mum is shaken too.

"You are no family of mine," I shriek after him, "I hate you!" I would shout more but Mum puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Anna," she says, gently, "Enough."


End file.
